


Thwarted Dreams

by junko



Series: Written in the Scars (of Our Hearts) [35]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 08:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renji's subconscious has something to say about the whole 'Don Konanji' debacle and wakes him up from a nightmare.  Meanwhile, back in the Soul Society, Byakuya finally hears from his cousin who is betrothed to the division's Third Seat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thwarted Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Josey (cestus) for her continued cheerleading and typo-spotting and general awesomeness. Also, Vorvanye? You clearly inspired the letters that arrive on Byakuya's desk with your memory jog about that missing plot element.
> 
> There's a lot Byakuya hasn't dealt with in the aftermath of last night's raid, but rest assured that's still coming.
> 
> I rated this "G," but some might find Renji's dream and his thoughts afterwards a little disturbing, hence the warning for violence.

Renji’s dream felt so real that he could smell the dust in the hot summer air and feel the strain of his muscles. 

Yet, it was enough dream-like that the background kept shifting. Sometimes he knelt in the middle of the Sixth Division’s quad practice yard, the whole squad and all of his friends watching from the porticos and double loggias. Other times, the crowd was even larger and he was naked in the fighting pits at the Eleventh with nearly all the Gotei coming and going.

No matter where he was, the feeling of the dream was the same: humiliation. Stripped, bound and gagged, his cock rampant and on display, Renji was debased in front of everyone, as the crowd laughed and jeered. 

Someone—Momo? Matsumoto? Or was it Rukia?—shouted out above the crowd, “Whip him! Whip him like the dog he is!”

Kenpachi looked at him for a long moment, as if disappointed or bored or both, and then he turned his back and walked away.

The first sting of the lash woke Renji with a start.

Drenched in sweat, he glanced around the room trying to get his bearings in the darkness. Glowing red lights of the digital clock on the floor read: 3:00 am. Through the paper thin walls of the shōten, Renji could hear the hiss of traffic and the gentle patter of rain on tile roofs. He clutched the blankets in his fists and tried to banish the phantom sensation of a burning sting across his back.

There hadn’t been much of a crowd the only time Renji had faced a public beating. No whips, either. It’d been a cane, and the whole thing had been brutal, ugly, but mercifully short. Done and dusted before he’d felt anything beyond smoldering white-hot anger and indignation. His reiatsu had already started protecting him then, though he wouldn’t have known to call it that. The welts had faded by the time he caught up with Rukia and she never saw the tattoos they’d left him with, either.

But this dream hadn’t been a memory of any of that. The feeling had been very different. He had no shame about taking that beating. He’d have taken a thousand more if it meant Rukia had gotten free of those teahouse thugs. He regretted nothing. The only thing that had ever lost Renji sleep from that time was the deaths of his brothers, but he’d comforted himself then and now with the knowledge that they’d known the risks, they’d volunteered, and they’d pushed for action as much, if not more, than he had.

Renji rolled over and stared up at the ceiling in the dark. 

Clearly, that wasn’t what had triggered this dream. No, he was being stupid. Renji knew full well what had brought it on and what it was really about.

He thought he’d made peace with his humiliation kink, but it was clear that was bullshit. He’d never wanted Byakuya to make any of it public, ever, but first it had been Aio in the library and then Eishirō and Rukia at the hotel. Now, the whole fucking Gotei was going to know.

Everyone was going to lose any respect they might have had for him. Renji always thought that didn’t matter what people thought of him, but that was a lie. All that crap always hurt. He never could shake it off like he wanted to, like he pretended he could. Every bark, every dog comment--it was like the sting of a whip, cutting through flesh and hitting bone every damn time.

He’d worked his ass off to try to get above all that, and then he let Byakuya drag him back to his knees, push his face in the dirt, and… lick those sandals.

Where the fuck was his self-respect?

Zabimaru rumbled deep inside.

Yeah, okay, so some of it Renji had had to do. Survival always trumped pride, no question, no regrets. 

But, what about all this recent shit? Why couldn’t he say ‘no’? Why couldn’t he be better about thinking through how he really felt before it was too late? Why was there even an option on that damn questionnaire that had said, ‘Doesn’t turn me on, but I would do it for you’? 

Because that was the option Renji checked far, far more often than he should have. 

Renji rolled over. Finding the giant stuffed tiger, Renji hugged it against his chest.

Still so fucking fearful to tread in his shadow. Because, despite their progress, Renji was afraid—afraid that saying ‘no’ would mean rejection, scared that drawing a line would only push Byakuya into crossing it. 

Renji held the tiger so hard it was in danger of ripping as he silently cursed is own weakness. 

_I’m even thinking about saying ‘yes’ to letting him take you from me with this stupid purification rite,_ Renji thought to Zabimaru. _And you’re the only strength I have._

 _We didn’t pick a weakling._ The baboon growled. _A fool, perhaps. But you’re stronger than you give yourself credit for._

 _Pick yourself up again, you idiot,_ the snake tail hissed. _And fight._

Obediently, Renji rose to his feet with a grunt. Zabimaru was right. Renji’d never work this all out in his head. It was too jumbled and fucked-up. Better to push and fight until he was too exhausted to think straight.

Popping a soul pill into his mouth, Renji dry swallowed it. In a second, he left the gigai behind. He strode purposely toward the underground training facility, Zabimaru tight in his grip.

His gaze was set, focused and determined. After all, these days, Renji was the one holding the whip. His was the stroke that could rend flesh from bone.

 

#

 

Byakuya’s morning began with a pile of correspondence. Eishirō had brought the stack of missives along with a large pot of tea. Byakuya hadn’t bothered to get out of bed and instead sat up with the tray on his lap, sipping tea, and going through the letters. Eishirō knelt at the door, paper and brush beside him, noting down business as it occurred to Byakuya.

In his usual efficiency, Eishirō had ordered the letters so that the mundane things were completed first. Byakuya had decided on a mason to repair the section of the estate’s wall that had succumbed to age and wear. Invitations had been declined. Several candidates for heir had been reviewed and a number sent back with approval to aunt Masama to arrange interviews. 

Now, as Byakuya neared the bottom, came the more difficult and/or personal matters.

To Byakuya’s surprise and delight, the first was a letter from Renji.

> ~~Byakuya,~~  
>  ~~Hey, lover,~~  
>  Byakuya,

> I don’t know how you can write these things. I can’t even start. Don’t expect poetry, except maybe the kind that rhymes with ‘violets are blue.’

> ;-)

Byakuya had to turn the paper around to see that the funny little image was supposed to be a winking smiley face. Where did Renji get this? It was oddly charming though, and, of course, Byakuya had to suppress his own smile at the memory of Renji’s past poetry attempts.

> Anyway, I should probably warn you that some idiot ‘sensed’ us at the sentō and went and blabbed about it to a crazy TV show personality. I wouldn’t bother you about it except Urahara says maybe those creeps at the Twelfth watch Human World shows so word could get back to the Soul Society. 

> Your reputation is safe at any rate. It’s my tattoos that everyone seemed to feel the need to comment on. The commercials make me sound like some kind of wild animal, but, you know, Ichigo guessed, so I can’t imagine it’ll be hard for anyone else to put two and two together. He’s not exactly a rocket surgeon, as they say.

That was a joke of some kind, Byakuya was certain, but he had no understanding of it. A lot of what Renji wrote was confusing, but Byakuya understood enough to know they’d been compromised at the sentō and that word might be getting around.

> Like I wrote, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I was at a party tonight and, well, everyone thinks it was me and Ichigo. Not sure what that says about either of us, but, you know, in case you hear that rumor too, I don’t want you thinking it’s true. ~~He’s cute and everything but~~ He’s not really my type, as you should know. 

> Urahara seems to be percolating about our problem. He said weird shit stuff to me tonight and did his usual cryptic ‘explaining’ that ends up more confusing than helpful. Point is, you can tell your aunt that we got this.

> I guess this is where, if you were writing it, the letter would end with something awesome that would make you miss me. I don’t know how to do that. So, I’ll just say how much I appreciate you writing to me. I keep your letters under my pillow and re-read the good bits. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you’re good at courting, but it’s nice to be the one ~~on the receiving end.~~

> ~~Getting it?~~

> ~~No. God damn it.~~

> It’s just nice.

> Take care,  
>  Renji

Byakuya smiled. Renji might not think he knew how to be charming, but he was. In fact, Byakuya missed him terribly at this moment and found himself re-reading the last paragraph several times before setting it aside regretfully.

There was one more letter on his pile. Curious that Eishirō had thought something should come after a note from Renji. Byakuya turned the paper over and saw a Kuchiki seal. Who would this be from? 

Ah, yes, his cousin Hiroko, the one who was betrothed to the Third Seat, Miisho Ōta.

She wrote:

> My dearest cousin, Lord Byakuya,

> I must admit to some surprise to be in receipt of a letter from our clan head. I’m impressed you remember anything about such an insignificant relation, such as me. I could hardly have made a favorable impression when we last met, as I’m sure my thumb was firmly planted in my mouth the entire time.

> However, I’m flattered and deeply honored to be taken into your confidence on such clandestine matters. 

> I feel like a spy!

> Thus, since you have asked for my honesty, I will give it to you. Mr. Ōta is nice enough, but I do not enter this arrangement out of love for him. You are right in guessing that what I wish is an entrance into the Gotei, but it is not because I dream of life as a warrior. 

> My interest is science. 

> Our family tolerates my ‘hobby,’ but cannot truly foster it. My father would happily buy me any equipment or books I desire, but what I lack are proper colleagues. Without significant reiatsu, I was not considered an appropriate candidate for Academy. Even so, I long ago surpassed even the finest tutors available to a lady. 

> A man such as you may not be able to comprehend my selfish desires. Your position must always be thinking of the clan and of our honor and reputation. It must seem abhorrent to someone like you that I would so willingly and cheaply sell out our name for the slimmest chance of having two minutes in the company of a mind like my own. 

> I have no excuses to make, my lord. I was well aware that our beloved Aunt Masama exploited my weakness for her own gain. I have, in fact, no idea what I’ll do if my honesty in this matter sabotages my chances. I can only hope you will take pity on a foolish girl who would dare dream so far outside her reach.

> Your humble servant,  
>  Hiroko Kuchiki

 

Byakuya set the letter down and glanced out the window. Far away was a woman that fate had thwarted. Had she only the reiatsu, she would’ve gone to Academy. Her name might have raised eyebrows, but had there been the glimmer of a zanpakutō’s soul in her… well, a warrior’s path was something the family understood and respected. Even if she had veered off into science, having a zanpakutō at her side would have been enough. 

Similarly, had she been born in the Rukongai with another name, she could still have gone. The Academy took brilliant minds and taught them, even those with no hope of gaining a zanpakutō, because Captain Kurotsuchi accepted all talented souls into his Division. Smart enough and they might avoid becoming experiments themselves.

But, given that particular possibility, no one would risk a Kuchiki, especially a beautiful, eligible one.

Never. She was too precious a commodity.

Aunt Masama must have understood all too well the pain of being trapped by powerlessness, name, and gender. 

Setting the tea tray aside, Byakuya pulled himself from bed. “We will take breakfast with our aunt,” he informed Eishirō. “And if you can find that useless Third Seat of mine, have him in attendance as well.”

Byakuya had no idea what he planned to say; all he knew was that there would be words.

#

Renji lay there in the dust, Urahara’s words still echoing in his ear. _Stay back. You’re useless._

It was the fuck last thing he needed to hear today. The words cut him like the expert slash of a whip.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick note to add that I have plans for Hiroko, and if you find yourself disappointed that she doesn't have significant reiatsu, remember that her family had a lot of reasons to LIE to her. That's all I'll say. ;-)


End file.
